


Unsent.

by hamish_adler_holmes



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: First Kiss, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Texting, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-04
Updated: 2014-03-04
Packaged: 2018-01-14 11:53:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1265542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hamish_adler_holmes/pseuds/hamish_adler_holmes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock and John both have messages in their drafts that they wished they could send, and one night, John accidentally does.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unsent.

**Author's Note:**

> My [Twitter](https://twitter.com/johnxlock)
> 
> My [Tumblr](http://iamsherlockedwatson.tumblr.com/)

 

_Lonely.  Come at once.  SH.  [unsent]_

Sherlock glances down at the unsent message, wishing that he could just send it.  But for whatever reason, the strange doctor who wasn’t afraid of him had an effect on him.  He couldn’t seem to use his fingers properly as he saved yet another message into the drafts folder.

_Please.  Need someone.  SH._

The truth was, he needed someone desperately.  And he knew in his heart that John was that person.  It started as  a dull ache whenever someone said John’s name and escalated to a painful stab and harsh breath as John turned his glowing smile towards him.  Sherlock threw an arm across his face.  He was on the sofa in the living room of his cluttered flat, and he was alone.  John was out with some friends—how had Sherlock let him make friends, he should only be Sherlock’s—and was going to be back much later, probably drunk.

_Why do you not think of me the way I think of you.  SH.  [unsent]_

_John, I think I may love you.  Need to examine further.  SH.  [unsent]_

_Irene always wanted to have dinner so maybe we should try that.  I’m not hungry, let’s have dinner.  SH.  [unsent]_

_Disregard the last message because that is completely ridiculous.  Just come to me now.  SH.  [unsent]_

_Please.  SH.  [unsent]_

Sherlock scrolled sadly through all the messages he couldn’t send.  Maybe one day he would, and if John was upset with him he could say that it was for a case.  Or something equally ridiculous in the hopes that John would understand what he really wanted.

He sighed and closed his eyes, his phone still lit up on his chest. 

\---- ---- ---- ---

Bored.  Call me.  JW. 

John sighed and leaned back in his chair.  He was in a noisy pub with people he hadn’t seen for years, and he was being ignored.  Not that he was complaining.  After meeting Sherlock, everyone else seemed perfectly dull and pointless.  Sherlock had a way of making everything seem almost magical, what with his deductions and rude comments that somehow managed to make John’s heart race.  The crooked smile that only showed itself for him and nobody else.  Those damn curls that he wanted to run his hands through.

But he couldn’t.  He saved the message to his drafts.  Why would Sherlock want him?  There were so many people that were intelligent and amazing like Sherlock, and here John was, ordinary and boring and not made for someone who’s mind raced as fast as Sherlock’s did.  He set another message up to text.

Would you choose me, given the opportunity?  JW.

John pictured what would happen if he sent the text.  It could go one of two ways.  Sherlock could return his feelings and throw him against a wall and kiss him senseless, or he could tell John—nicely, he would be so nice—that he was uninterested and John would have to leave so he wouldn’t face the rejection and awkwardness.  And he couldn’t risk the latter, as Sherlock was his only real friend. 

I’m coming home.  Please be topless when I arrive.  JW.

John sent the message and then froze.  He hadn’t meant to tack on that last part.  He felt his heart stop and he almost dropped his phone into his drink.  No way in hell had he just done that, he was so stupid.  Christ, he was going to have to pretend it was one of his drunk friends.  Yes, that made sense.  He tucked his phone away, threw some bills down on the table, and snuck unnoticed away from the group.  He hailed a cab and spent the time alone in the back of the car half hoping that Sherlock would actually be awaiting him shirtless.

\--- ---- ---

Sherlock woke as his mobile buzzed on his chest.

“I’m coming home.  Please be topless when I arrive.   JW.”  Sherlock sucked in a quick breath.  Did John feel the same way?  His hands shook as he decided whether or not to answer, but settled on not.  He stood up and sprinted into his bedroom.  He fumbled with the buttons on his shirt, tearing the fabric a little because his hands were shaking.  He examined himself in the full length mirror. 

His chest was pale and his ribs showed slightly through the taut skin.  He had never thought much of his looks.  That was always someone else, commenting on his cheekbones or his collarbones and how sharp they were, how he should put on weight.  He was self-conscious nonetheless.  He shuddered in the cold air and draped his bathrobe around his shoulders, then went to wait for John in the living room.  He didn’t know if he should sit somewhere specific, or if he should remove the bathrobe.  He settled for propping himself on the sofa the same way he had been when he received the text, and left the robe on.

He closed his eyes and hoped to look at least somewhat attractive or appealing.  He smiled to himself as he waited for John’s footsteps on the stairs. 

_Waiting.  SH._

His fingers shook as he sent the message.  Suppose it had been one of John’s friends playing a drunken prank?  And now here Sherlock was, topless waiting for his roommate.  He shook his head.  No, he couldn’t think that way.  At least he had a robe on, in case it turned out that John had no idea the message even went through.  He folded his hands on his chest and waited for the front door to open.

\---- ---- --

John sat in the back of the car, mind wandering as he pictured the disgusted look on Sherlock’s face.  He had made a mistake, he knew it, why had he—

His thoughts were interrupted as his phone chimed.  He looked down at the message and felt his breathing stop.

”Waiting.  SH.” 

He smiled and inhaled sharply, making a noise somewhere between a cheer and a scream.  The cabbie glanced back into the mirror, shocked, but said nothing.  John looked down at the phone and stared happily at the message.  He bit his lip and clutched his phone tightly, hoping this wasn’t some strange dream.

As the cabbie stopped in front of his flat, he tossed the money over the seat and practically sprinted the few feet across the pavement to the door.  He took a deep breath to steady himself and casually pushed the door open.  He slowly walked up the stairs, knowing Sherlock could hear him as he cautiously moved up the stairs and reached a shaking hand to the door knob.  As he reached, the door flew open.

Sherlock stood there, his bare chest shining in the light from the hall.  There weren’t any lights on in the flat, which meant Sherlock had been thinking when he had received the text.  As Sherlock stood there, John saw that the other man’s chest was heaving and his eyes were huge.  He stepped closer to John, in a way that John was suddenly with his back the the wall by the door.   He leaned close but halted with his mouth inches away from John’s. 

John inhaled sharply, his hands going to Sherlock’s slim waist.  His hands grazed the sharp line of his collarbone, skimmed the bumps of his ribs and he was pleased to see Sherlock’s stomach ripple underneath his touch.

“John…” Sherlock whispered, his hands shaking where they were braced on the wall, one on either side of John’s head.  John’s eyed had gone dark, his pupils enormous and almost entirely swallowing the blue that Sherlock so loved.

John smiled and pulled Sherlock closer, so that their chests were pressed together.  Their foreheads were touching, and they were both breathing heavily.  John closed the short distance, pressing his lips against Sherlock’s full ones.  For a moment, they were still, and both men became accustomed to the strange feeling of eachother’s mouths, and then Sherlock’s mouth was working on John’s and had his fingers through his soft hair.  John pushed his fingers through Sherlock’s belt loops and pulled the taller man closer, standing on tiptoe so he could more easily reach his mouth. 

“God, I was so afraid you weren’t going to be okay with this.”  John gasped as Sherlock worked his lips down his neck.  He tangled his fingers into Sherlock’s hair and held him closer, loving the way the curls felt in his hand.

Sherlock chuckled, a deep rumble deep in his chest.  “John, I have wanted this for so long.”  He pulled the doctor into another kiss, this one more passionate than the first.  The two men stumbled together into the dark flat, and Sherlock kicked the door closed behind him as he shoved John towards the sofa.  They fell together, legs tangling and feet slipping on the rug, and they slammed to the floor.

John gasped out a laugh.  “We missed.” 

“Doesn’t bother me.  Does it bother you?”  Sherlock said in between kisses as he worked on the buttons of John’s shirt.  The blonde shook his head and pulled Sherlock up for another kiss.  He turned his head as Sherlock went to work on his neck, and he saw the detective’s phone laying on the floor.  He grabbed it and giggled.

Open on the screen were the list of text messages that Sherlock had never sent.  He read through them, loving that they were all messages to him, all asking him for the same thing that John himself wanted.  Sherlock stopped, nuzzling his head against John’s neck. 

“Well that’s a bit embarrassing.”  Sherlock said, and he felt his face flush.  He kept his face hidden in the crook of John’s neck until he felt himself being pulled away.

“Sherlock, look at me.”  John said.  His face was lit only by the phone held in front of him, and his lips were plump and red from the kissing.  Sherlock smiled shyly.   He felt John reach down towards his own pocket and was confused when he saw him pulling his phone out.  He unlocked it and scrolled through a few things before turning it to face Sherlock.

Sherlock was speechless at what he saw.

Sherlock, I need you to come here and kiss me senseless.  JW.  [unsent]

You look sexy on crime watch.  JW.  [unsent]

I want to kiss you.  Is that bad?  It may be bad.  I don’t care, just come kiss me.  JW.  [unsent]

I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone as gorgeous as you.  JW.  [unsent]

Sherlock smiled and pushed both phones aside, pulling John harshly against him before pressing heavy, open-mouthed kisses onto John.  The doctor returned the passion, his hands gripping Sherlock so tightly it should have been painful but all Sherlock could feel were the pair of lips under his and the hardness spreading between his legs and the hardness pressed against his thigh.

Sherlock pulled away and John started kissing on his neck.  He grabbed his phone and hastily typed a message.

_Bed.  Now.  SH._

John’s phone chimed and he smiled against Sherlock’s shoulder as he unlocked it and glanced at the message.  He quickly tapped back a reply and then went back to kissing Sherlock’s strong shoulder.

I thought you’d never ask.  JW.

Both men smiled and helped each other up, giggling like teenagers, and managed to just barely make it to Sherlock’s bed, stealing kisses along the way.

 

**Author's Note:**

> THIS FIC WAS INSPIRED BY THIS [POST](http://dramatisecho.tumblr.com/post/78453760870/unsent)
> 
> Thanks for reading, feel free to leave comments cause I love seeing what you all have to say.


End file.
